Written In Blood
by bunyipbabe
Summary: involves Oliver throwing a party, Myrnin cross dressing, Amelie scaring Claire and possible boy x boy themes. My only excuse is that i was bored... R&R plz
1. A Pink Dress of DOOOOM

Hmm. Well, I got bored. That's my only excuse…

**I'd never thought of an Oliver and Myrnin pairing before, but I thought that this one could actually turn out pretty funny.**

**So here we go…**

_Warning: Involves cross dressing, and a little bit of boyxboy, (so don't like, don't read!) although Oliver doesn't know it… hee hee. Flame if it'll make you happy, but they'll only be ignored. This also may contain a few spoilers for Carpe Corpus, so if you're wondering why Myrnin's not insane, read the book._

_Disclaimer: If I owned the Morganville Vampires series, then Claire's parents would hand her over to Shane and say 'please ravish my daughter'. Overprotectiveness pisses me off._

On with the story!

For possibly the first time ever, Claire was actually thankful when a message boy ran into the lecture hall and told her that Miss Amelie wanted to see her and quickly please. This was not because she had suddenly discovered her deeply (and I mean _deeply_) buried undying love for the cold founder of the town, but rather because she had just sat through a completely pointless hour of physics she had perfected many months before with Myrnin down in his lab.

If there was any problems with being a now mostly sane vampire's pet/co-worker/lab assistant, it was that she had probably completed the whole year already, and moved onto the next, and all school had become good for was catching up on the precious hours of sleep she had wasted, either with Myrnin, on some fool's errand for Amelie, or best of all, wrapped tightly in Shane's arms.

But right now was _definitely _not the time for those particular dribble-worthy thoughts, however much she wanted to have them. Not with the town founder breathing down her neck in a pissy mood, anyway.

And so, Claire quickly packed away the few books she had around her into her usual small canvas bag, then stood up to her full yet still diminutive height of just under five foot, and shuffled on out, feeling slightly self conscious of the gazes of the students around her turned to focus on her form.

Or rather, on the small golden bracelet swinging to and fro about her wrist.

Claire pulled the sleeves of her dark green cardi across the thin band, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks as she pushed open the doors at the entrance of the lecture hall and left as quickly as she could. Or rather, before Monica Morrell, self proclaimed (although no one was going to challenge her on this one) bitch queen of the small-time world that was Morganville University, noticed her absence and decided to follow.

She had already had a shower this morning, and she really didn't need another one, especially as that shower was likely to be held with her head inside a toilet.

Thankfully, Monica was far to busy filing her nails and eyeing up one of the big jock types at the opposite end of the hall to notice Claire's scurrying escape, but Claire still kept her head down, just in case.

She reached the headmasters office, where she guessed Amelie would be waiting for her, in barely a minute. She had been walking fast, and her small legs were burning, but a little bit of muscle pain from a swift march across campus was a far better fate than the one which would surely await if she dared to leave Amelie waiting to long.

After all, vampires were not well known for their patience.

Sure enough, Amelie was sitting comfortably behind the desk, her pale hair wound up in a complicated twist and her back ram rod straight as a soldier's. The headmaster, who had been evicted from his comfortable chair under the eyes of a greater authority, now stood slightly nervously in the corner of the room, flanked on both sides by the usual vampire entourage who followed the founder wherever she went. He gave Claire a nervous bob of the head as she entered, and hurried on out, obviously overwhelmed by Amelie's intimidating presence.

Indeed, as Amelie's ice-cold gaze met her own, Claire felt her hands, which were carefully folded at her sides, begin to shake at the raw power she could feel in that gaze. Amelie had been one of the first to take the cure for the Vampire's Disease which had affected them all so badly, only a little while after Myrnin, the worst case by far who was not locked behind bars, recovered.

Still, Claire hadn't realised just how much the Vampire's Disease had affected Amelie of all people, not until the town founder was completely cured.

And then she had seen just how strong and dangerous a fully powered, fully primed Amelie could be.

She was still grieving from Sam's death, Claire noted, her fast eyes flicking over and taking in the unusual darkness of her carefully pressed suit. Amelie had always favoured the light, pastelline colours, which matched her pale skin and enunciated the silvery hair and fearless grey eyes. And Claire had always thought that that style had suited her, and until a few weeks ago, when Bishop had drained Sam and consequently poisoned himself, she never would've imagined Amelie in anything else.

But once again, the child genius was proved wrong by the unpredictability of vampire moods. Which, really, was a subject she should have been an expert on. As well as being as close as someone could get to the ruling vampires of Morganville without being dubbed as a 'fangbanger', she had also been apprentice to Myrnin far to long to forget that vampires were never to be trusted. She was possibly the only person in Morganville (living person, that is) who could honestly say that she considered both Amelie and Myrnin her friends, however much they still scared her sometimes.

Amelie seemed in no hurry to tell her what the rush was, instead choosing to look away back to a sheaf of paper she had clasped in one delicately pale hand, and so Claire just stood there for a little longer, twirling her feet against the soft carpet and fidgeting uncomfortable, before finally working up the guts to ask-

"Um, ma'am?" She still hadn't been granted the privilege of addressing the Founder on first name terms.

Amelie looked up.

Then looked down again.

Okay, now Claire was getting annoyed. Vampire queen or not, Amelie still didn't have the right to rip her from classes (however boring said classes were) drag her into a one-on-one (excluding the vampish bodyguards) interview, and then promptly ignore her! Did she?

No.

Claire Danvers, human, and recently turned seventeen, was not going to stand for it.

She took a slightly angry step forwards, still trying not to act like a threat in case the guards took it the wrong way, and opened her mouth to give the vampire a piece of her mind…

…and then Amelie held up a single hand, palm facing towards her, a gesture which clearly stated, 'please wait a while'.

Ah well, it was better than nothing. Claire hunched back down again, glancing around her nervously, rage dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She didn't really like conflict, and only fought when she had to, especially against super-strong supernatural beings who could kill her with their little fingers.

Sometimes rebelling against overwhelming odds really wasn't such a great idea, no matter what all the films said. Luke Skywalker be damned.

But there was just something… annoying about the Founder, and her seeming disregard of all things human. And although Claire knew that Amelie did care about the other side of the population in Morganville, even if she did always place her own first and foremost, she still found it bugging that Amelie always behaved like she was nothing more than a piece of mud stuck to her shoe.

Finally, Amelie put her papers down with a sigh, and gave Claire a nod.

"I'm sorry," she said. Claire blinked. Amelie _never_ apologised. Never. This was new.

"What for?" asked Claire, genuinely curious, and saw Amelie smile slightly.

"Dragging you from the learning you love so much. I imagine it must have been hard for you to tear yourself away."

"Not at all." Claire shrugged. "I'd been over it a few billion times before with Myrnin, anyhow."

Amelie looked up at the mention of the no-longer-utterly-insane vampire who had fought by their side in the war against Bishop, despite his problem of being caught in the slow spiral down into insanity.

"Ah yes, Claire. That was just what I wanted to talk about with you, actually."

"What?" Claire frowned, back tracking over what she'd just said. "My studies?"

"No, Myrnin. You see…"

Amelie sighed, and tapped a pen which had appeared from seemingly nowhere softly against the desk, and then turned to the Guards.

"Leave us. Claire is no threat."

The Vampire Guards nodded as one, and left, silent and quickly. As soon as they were gone, Claire found herself wondering if they had ever been there in the first place. Amelie's guard _were_ the elite after all, they were well trained in being inconspicuous. They were barely noticeable in everything they did, until they wanted to be, sleek and silent as a true nocturnal predator should be. If someone had told her to imagine a vampire long before she had come to Morganville, then she betted that she would have visualised one of Amelie's Guards.

"What about Myrnin?" asked Claire when the last of the guards had departed, shutting the door softly behind him. For some reason, the fact that she was now alone with one of the most powerful, and possibly _the_ most powerful, now that Bishop was dead, vampires in history didn't really seem to bother her anymore. Claire chose not to dwell on that, however. She knew that in this town, the day you started trusting the vamps as anything more than allies was the day you died.

Amelie looked up at the ceiling, a movement which told Claire she was deep in thought, and that her little human ward was not to interrupt. Claire decided, as usual, that it would be for her beneficial interests (in other words, staying alive) that she complied with Amelie's wishes.

"Where to begin…" Amelie mused, and a horrible thought suddenly appeared in Claire's mind.

"It's not wearing off, is it? The cure? He's not going to go nuts on us again, is he?" _And you're not going to follow him,_ she asked silently, because if the cure didn't work on Myrnin then it would be a safe bet that it wasn't going to work on Amelie either. And then, all the vampires really would be doomed to a long, painful descent into madness.

Thankfully, Amelie shook her head.

"No, no. Nothing like that. In fact, this has more to do with Oliver than Myrnin, actually, although Myrnin will likely be a huge factor…" A frown twisted her smooth forehead slightly "… if he complies."

"What about Oliver then?"

Amelie steepled her fingers, and leaned over them, looking Claire deep in the eyes.

"I do not know. But he has invited all vampires I have not claimed as my own, and even some which I have, but do not hold a strong bond with, to a… party… at the Common Grounds in two days time. I am worried, that now Bishop has gone, he plans to keep going with his plot to overthrow my rule of Morganville, and take the town for his own."

_And how does this affect me,_ Claire wanted to ask. After all, she wasn't a vampire…

A gleam of gold caught her attention and bought it to the band looped about her wrist. _You're not a vampire, but you do belong to one, _a little voice murmured inside her head. _And so do all your friends, one of whom _is _a vampire of Amelie. The others also belong to her though, through the protection this band offers them. If Oliver takes over, then this band will mean nought, and you will all be in danger again._

Aah. That was it.

"How can I help?"

She asked.

An hour later, and Claire had dropped her last lecture of the day and was instead heading over to Myrnin's lab, her head still buzzing with all Amelie had told her.

_No way,_ said that little inner voice, in much the same way it had been since Amelie had first explained the plan to her. _No way will sane Myrnin _ever_ do something like this. Especially if it involves Oliver._

There was no love lost between Oliver and Myrnin, and although Claire didn't know the facts about the harsh, bloody past they shared, she saw enough in the expressions they wore whenever the other was in the room to know that they truly hated eachother. Amelie was the only reason they had been forced to briefly cooperate, and even then it was only because there was a bigger evil for them to focus on, rather than each other.

_So if Oliver really does take over, Myrnin will be at his mercy as well as Amelie… and the rest of us. We can't let that happen!_

But Amelie's plan… It was just… just…

Too _insane_, even going by Myrnin's standards, who was still far from normal. Screw that. The whole of _Morganville_ was far from normal, but Myrnin was still further out than the rest.

If he gets pissed off and kills me for this, she thought silently, I'll write in my will for Shane to hunt you down, Amelie, and shove a stake through you. And then I'll come back as a ghost and haunt your prone body until you really do go mental, cured of the Vampire Disease or not.

She hugged the dress – yes dress – that Amelie had given her closer to her chest, pressing the soft silk against her cheek and trying to imagine Myrnin wearing it. It wasn't difficult. He was certainly pretty enough to pull it off, although his pride would probably never recover.

After all, if Amelie had her way, he was going to be _cross dressing._ Whilst spying for possible mutiny in the ranks at none other but _Oliver's_ possible let's-take-over-Morganville party.

Oh yes, the crazy scientise/vampire was really going to love this one.

Claire paused for a second at the door of Myrnin's shack, biting her lip.

_I'd better come out of this alive, Amelie,_ she thought, and then pushed open the door and went in, still holding the pile of pink silk in her arms.


	2. Ada is Annoying

Chapter 2 of the ultimate randomness is here! Once again, I was very bored. Well, let's just hope that Claire Bear survives through this… as well as Myrnin's pride.

And yes, I do know that the Morganville vamps are believed to be the last vamps in the world (except Bishop and co., obviously) but for the purpose of this sad little ficcie let's pretend that that's not true. Kidokes?

**Anyway, on with the story!**

(for disclaimers, warnings, etc, read the first chapter. I can't be bothered to write all that out again, dammit.)

"No," Said Myrnin. "No way in Hell."

"Yes," said Claire, shoving the dress further across the lab table towards him. "Don't shoot the messenger, I only do this on Amelie's orders."

"Screw Amelie."

"No Thankyou."

Mutual glaredown between master and student. Which ended as Claire put on her infamous puppy-dog eyes, and then…

…well, Myrnin didn't really have a choice after that, did he?

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you now," he growled, grabbing the soft pink silk disgustedly in sharp claws bordering on animalistic talons.

"Because I'm far too cute. And anyway, Amelie would be mad at you if I was injured. You did promise to protect me with your life, what's left of it, after all."

"Amelie will already be mad at me when I throw this dress right back in her face! And that promise was ages ago! She probably doesn't even remember. Seriously Claire, I'm not doing this! Oliver, dammit! Oliver!"

Oh ho. Claire raised an eyebrow.

"Does this mean that it's not the actual wearing of the offending item which is bothering you, but the fact that you will be wearing a dress in front of none other than Oliver?"

"Well…" Myrnin looked at her, big, dark eyes wide, and then sighed. "Yes."

"So just tell yourself repeatedly that the scary vamp in front of you is actually not Oliver, wear the damn dress, and pretend to be your own cousin, okay?"

"No. And that's final."

"Then why are you still holding the dress, huh?"

Myrnin couldn't seem to find an answer to that. But he left to get changed, still holding the dress, and muttering something which sounded suspiciously like 'Amelie you bucking ditch' on the way. (work it out)

"Just this once!" he yelled to Claire as he opened a portal to a mystical dressing room somewhere or other in Morganville. "Don't get any ideas, okay?"

Claire could only nod, and feel very, very happy that her head was still attached to the rest of her body by her neck, and hope that Myrnin didn't hate her for this later.

The party began at six, Claire had told him, and there was no set finishing time.

_Goddamit, _thought Myrnin gloomily. _This means I could be stuck inside Oliver's personal section of hell until midnight._

And then again, as he kicked the dressing room door shut, _Claire had better find me some better tasting blood after all this. Preferably her own…_

But the last thought was… well, just that. An afterthought.

And not just because Amelie would be angry if him if he killed yet another apprentice. Amelie had been angry with him many times before, and she always forgot it in the end.

Or rather, she always conveniently put it out of her mind as soon as she wanted him to do something for her.

Myrnin gave a wry smile to the mirror. Yeah, that was much more like it.

But no, strangely but truly, after barely a year of knowing her, Myrnin had actually started to _like_ Claire. And that was a weird thing in itself- because, in the past, even before he had started to… lose himself… he had never liked an insignificant little mortal enough not to drain them when he felt like having a snack.

Not even the brightest, most charming students (take Ada for example) had held enough interest with him to stop his fangs an inch from their necks, like something had all those times he had nearly killed Claire.

And he didn't know why, which was the most annoying thing of them all.

Yes, she was smarter than most. Yes, she was cute and pretty and innocent (although he was cuter, prettier and… well, not exactly more innocent… but you get the idea.). But since when had any of that mattered?

Maybe, it was something else. Like the way she treated him- like an actual friend. Like the way she was foolish enough to truly trust him- something he had warned all his other students never to do, a piece of advice all had followed to the letter, knowing that their lives would surely forfeit if they ever broke that single most golden of rules.

And maybe, just maybe, after all these years of loneliness and solitude, that unquestioning trust of a young girl too foolish to turn away, was exactly what he needed.

"As if!" snorted a metallic-y voice from the radio perched on the corner of the dressing table. "That little princess? You?"

Myrnin finished pulling the dress over his head, and shot the radio a glare.

"Yes, Ada, I. Now, you know that I've told you often enough to stay out of my head, don't you?"

There was a strange, sandpapery sound that followed, somewhere between static and a certain Victorian era bitch blowing a rather loud raspberry in his general direction. Myrnin decided to ignore it, instead eyeing his reflection with a scowl, as he pulled a brush quickly through his glossy dark curls.

The lights that shone softly around the mirror, casting the whole room full of a gentle, shadowy glow, suddenly spluttered and went out. Of course, being a vampire, Myrnin had no problem with the thick darkness now laying around him.

But it was still annoying when you knew the reason behind it.

"Ada!" He muttered under his breath.

"You called, oh great and wise master?" Said Ada sarcastically from the radio. Mynin had to restrain himself from banging his head repeatedly on the table from the tetchiness in her voice alone. This was going to be a real long day.

"Are you really going to wear that dress? To see _Oliver?_"

Ada's incredulous and imperious voice followed Myrnin up the unlit corridor from the old radio set, now carried in the crook of his arm.

"Yes, yes, and for the hundredth time, Yes!"

Ada let out a caw of laughter.

"Ha! _Oliver!_"

"I know," he answered moodily. "I can't believe I'm doing this for Amelie. I mean, I've done so much for her over the many years we've known eachother. I've won battles. I've fought wars. I've ironed her suit, and even dyed her hair for her a couple of times (did you know that pale blonde isn't natural?). And what does she give me in return? And invitation to a party where I have to wear a bloody pink silky _dress_. And… hey, are you even listening?"

There was a long burst of static after his monologue, but it ended in a loud chuckle, and a muffled- "_Oliver!"_- Followed by yet more girlish giggles of glee.

"Ah shut up," growled Myrnin, dropping the radio to the floor, and walking on it purposefully as he strode off, grinding the circuitry- and Ada's current voicebox, thank the lord,- to dust with the heel of his boot.

Claire was waiting him when he returned to the lab, looking slightly worried, and glancing at her watch. In fact, she didn't even notice his presence, until he tapped her lightly on her shoulder- to which she whirled round faster than any other human he'd seen, eyes wide with fear- until they came to rest on him, and she let out a long sigh of visible relief.

Yes, Claire must have been the only human around to actually be happy to have him, the infamously insane vampire/alchemist, in her direct vicinity.

And they had called him crazy…

"So how do I look?" he asked her jokingly, watching her eyes take in his costume with obvious appraisal. Eventually, after the few seconds of close scrutiny, she gave him an approving nod, and stepped back, slight smile twisting into a friendly grin.

"Phew, I was beginning to think you'd ditch me!"

"Huh, as if I would. You'd hunt me down and stick a stake in me for sure- or get that big bad boyfriend of yours to do it for you."

He didn't miss the blush that quickly spread across her cheeks at that last comment.

Because- ah yes, how could've he forgotten?

Little innocent Claire was still just as little, but not quite so innocent anymore.

The thought made him smirk- that guy, Shane, he'd only met him once or twice, but it definitely looked like he would have his hands full with Myrnin's favourite student (he could just imagine Ada's shriek of outrage.). He bet they fought all the time.

But he'd keep her safe, and protect her with his life and definitely with all his love, and to Myrnin, that was all that mattered.

After all, he still needed Claire. That experiment with the lead oxide wasn't going to spontaneously combust itself now, was it?

A/N: Hmm. I don't really like this chapter very much- I was very tired when I wrote it, and I think some of the humour could have been improved and some bits worded a little better. But hey, keep R&Ring, first person to review on this chappie gets a whole box of Christmas-Themed Vritual Cookies! =3

**Love all my reviewers, mwah mwah mwah, hope you like the new chapter better than I do. More to come!**


	3. Car Seat Conversations

_Disclaimer & warning- I can't be fucked. You know it all already anyway._

Okay, so to all of you who were wondering how the whole sneak-Myrnin-dressed-as-a-girl-into-Oliver's-exclusive-traitors-to-Morganville-party-plan was going to work, I hope this chapter explains it all.

**And there were too many '-'s' in that last sentence, goddamit.**

**Yeah, it normally does take me ages to update, and I'm really sorry about that, but my social life is actually much busier than most, so I do have an excuse rather than just being a lazy bitch (although I am that as well, as my mum and brother will definitely agree with). But this story is currently my favourite out of all the ones I am writing, so it will probably be given first priority over the rest of the weird yaoi-ish shit that I write.**

**Anyway, for anyone who's wondering why I got this chapter up so fast, I was bored last night. It's been snowing (yay!) which is quite a surprise because I live in a pretty hot part of the country, where it barely ever snows. I'd just gotten back from a snowball fight with one of my brother's friends, and had nothing else to do, so I wrote this in my pyjamas whilst my normal clothes were drying out on the radiator.**

**Hmm, maybe that was a bit too much information.**

**But who gives a shit?**

**On with the story!!!**

It was four o'clock, and already the sun had set over Morganville and it was safe for Myrnin and Claire to wander outside. Well, that was the depths of winter for you.

"So what's the plan," asked Myrnin for what seemed like the hundredth time as he and Claire sat sideways facing each other on the back seats of the black-windowed vampire car, on their way to Amelie's for a final briefing before being delivered to Oliver, like a pink-silk wrapped parcel. "Because, y'know, I've certainly never done anything like this before, and I want to make sure I do it right."

His large dark eyes looked earnestly into her own, begging help, and she let out yet another reluctant sigh of defeat.

"Okay, okay. But I'm only going to tell you one more time, right?"

"Deal."

The driver (one of Amelie's intimidating guards, in the usual matrix-style sharply creased dark suit and sunglasses combo) chose that time to suddenly gun the engine, and the car shot forwards like a bullet from a gun onto the streets of Morganville with no warning whatsoever.

Claire, who had stupidly forgotten her seatbelt, being used to driving around without safety precautions in Eve's car (because who needs seatbelts when there's a whole hoard of angry undead chasing you?) lurched forwards awkwardly in her seat, head banging against the back of the chair in front of her and nearly tipping downwards into the wide footwell.

"Ow," she complained, rubbing the quickly forming bump, and turned to frown at Myrnin, who, also unbelted, had managed to keep his balance perfectly throughout the unexpected acceleration, and was now watching her curiously, like a young bird would watch a worm, his crumpled dress laying in disarray about his slender form like ruffled feathers.

"That is so unfair," she commented. "Why can't you fall over as well? Then I could actually laugh at you for a change."

"Because," said Myrnin smoothly, "If I fell to the floor from such a tiny insignificant movement such as that, then I would probably also have a stake in my back and a silver cross hung around my neck. Oh yes, and be dead," he added as an afterthought, then frowned as another thought hit him. "Well, more dead than I am now, anyway. And somehow, I expect that you wouldn't laugh very hard at that, unless you were revealing your sadistic streak at long last."

"You're the only one with a sadistic streak around here," grumbled Claire. "You and Oliver _both."_

Now, that stung.

Myrnin shrugged off the slight, but his shoulders had retensed and he was nibbling slightly on his bottom lip, something Claire had never seen him- or any other vampire, for that matter- do before.

Maybe it had something to do with the fangs?

"Quit that, you'll bite yourself," she told him, and he rolled his eyes.

"As if I would. Foolish girl."

"It's been a while since I heard that one."

"Not really, if you think about it. Stupid, dumb, retarded, foolish, they all mean basically the same thing. And I call you them all the time, idiot."

Well, there was yet another of Mynin's practiced-to-perfection thinly veiled insults, Claire thought to herself. Very, _very_ thinly veiled.

"Thanks."

"Your welcome."

The ride continued in slightly awkward silence for a few uncomfortable seconds, until Claire decided to break it and bring the conversation back to the previous topic.

"So, you wanted me to recap again?"

"Please," he answered, looking up from her beneath thick eyelashes slightly lowered. Claire smirked slightly to herself. If he had been trying to convince her previously that he didn't look like a girl, he wasn't doing a very good job now.

"It's like this," Claire began, pushing all other thoughts to the back of her mind. "Amelie has recently made contact with another vampire colony living in Wales. Which is, coincidentally, your homeland, if I'm correct?" Myrnin nodded, motioning for her to get on with explaining, rather than dig any further into his mysterious past, and Claire complied like the good student she was, albeit slightly reluctantly. Who wouldn't want to know the truth behind your cute and mysterious science teacher/vampire/friend?

Well, whoever they were, Claire wasn't one of them. But for now, she didn't really have a choice but to do what Myrnin wanted her to, and that was to carry on the story.

"Good, so the accent won't be a problem. But anyway, she got in contact with these guys, and told them about the Oliver situation up here. At first, she wanted one of their own vampires to come to Morganville and infilterate Oliver's party instead of you, but they refused, understandably. Vampires don't seem to like leaving whatever territory they've marked for their own, especially not if they could be in danger- which they would be if Oliver found out the truth. So she was forced to use other methods."

Once again, Myrnin made a swift movement with his hand, telling her to hurry it up. She snorted. _Patience is not a virtue amongst leeches,_ she thought to herself, but once again did as he told her, and got more directly to the point.

"In other words, send a _fake _vampire from there- who is distantly related to you, just in case he gets suspicious about any similarities between you and… ahem, _her,_ and get her to do the job instead.

So, basically, if he does find out that you're a spy for Amelie, as long as you get away quick and don't reveal your true identity, he'll be stuck on the prowl for a gorgeous female vampire who doesn't exist, and is therefore both undetectable and unkillable. And we'll all go singing off into the sunset, after discovering his mucho de evil plans. Happy ending for everyone."

"Except Oliver," Myrnin pointed out, lazily, wrapping a few shiny dark curls around one sharp-nailed finger.

"Yeah, but he's the bad guy again, now that Bishop's gone. He wanted the book just as much as Bishop did, back in the day, and probably is still lusting after it- and the power it can bring- today. He doesn't _deserve_ our happy ending."

Myrnin stared at her for a few slow seconds, his eyes unreadable.

"What?" asked Claire eventually, growing slightly uncomfortable beneath that empty gaze.

"Well, young Claire Danvers, I have to say that that is the meanest thing you have ever said to me."

Claire felt a blush rising to her cheeks, and a wave of sudden guilt through her heart. Yes, it had been mean, and she normally prided herself on being one of the 'nice guys' who were always there, providing a shoulder to anyone who needed it, whether that need was for laughing or crying on.

But sometimes she felt that it was she and Michael alone who remembered the way Oliver had tried to turn Michael horribly and brutally, but when it failed, simply left him to die, become a ghost, a nothingness wanderer. Eve had hated Oliver more for the fact that he had tricked her into believing that he was your average, nice, _human_ guy and boss, someone to be trusted, not feared.

And Shane… Incredible, smart, sexy and gorgeous Shane hated everything with fangs. Including Michael, sometimes, although they would both gladly die for each other.

Claire shook that thought away as well.

_Bishop's gone now. You're safe. They're safe. No ones going to die, not anymore. Everyone's gonna live, and it'll all be okay. We've just got to get through this minor Oliver vs. Amelie skirmish, and then everything will be back to… well, as normal as Morganville gets, at least. Think happy endings, Claire, happy endings. That sunset's not gonna ride into itself, y'know._

"Yeah, you're right," she told Myrnin. "I didn't think it would offend you, though. Sorry."

He snorted at that, eyes widening. "Oh no, little Claire, don't misunderstand. I'm not offended on Oliver's front, and never will be…" he frowned at his dress "…unless Amelie wants me to be?"

He said the last as a slightly worried question, and Claire got what he was talking about immediately.

"Chill out, she's not gonna make you flirt with him or anything like that- I think. I hope, for your sake anyway, especially if he finds us out. You're just gonna go in there, have a snoop, and leave when everyone else does, then report back to the Founder. Y'see? Simple."

"You make it sound it," he mumbled.

Outside the Town Hall, the car drew to a sleek shiny stop, and Myrnin and Claire tumbled out the passenger doors, Myrnin moving with an accidental grace which Claire knew she could never achieve as he lightly jumped to the pavement, dress settling around him, and then proceeded to offer her his eerily pale hand in an old-school courtly gesture of acknowledgement.

She took it, and also stepped out the car, which immediately disappeared off the street nearly before her feet hit the ground, the driver not saying a word.

_Creepy, _thought Claire, suppressing a shiver. She could handle angry vampires. She could handle insane scientists, and evil bloodsuckers wanting to take over the world. But those silent guards…

There was something about them, and their stiff uprightness and unwavering loyalty to Amelie that made them seem even less human than Myrnin on a bad day.

And that really _was_ something to be afraid of.

Claire looked over to her befanged friend nervously, and really hoped that she would see him again the following morning.

**A/N: Hee hee, I've really enjoyed writing this story so far. Myrnin and Oliver have always been my favourite characters since they first appeared, Oliver because he's so cool and badass, and Myrnin because he's pretty, cute, funny and insane- just what I like in a guy! (Although I'd do without the whole trying-to-kill-me-and-drink-my-blood thing, thank you very much.)**

**Anyway, please keep R&Ring. None of you have Reviewed yet, so no virtual cookies, but I guess I didn't give you enough time.**

**So here's the new deal- whoever reviews first this time gets a virtual chibi-Myrnin/Claire/Oliver plushie! Specify which one you want. **

**Heheheh, bribery always works.**

**Seeya next time!**

**T.B.C**


	4. Visiting Amelie

**And the cookies go to- FORBIDDENFOREVERS!!!**

**Well done.**

**Okay so, Myrnin's crazy cross-dressing adventure is about to kick off into full swing! Be prepared people…**

**Disclaimer: **_**Yeah, yeah, you know all this. Why do I bother?**_

Claire pushed open the door to Amelie's personal office (more like: personal torture chamber) and was worried to see that her hands were shaking.

She and Myrnin had hurried up the stairs as fast as they could, she because she feared Amelie's wrath if she dared to be tardy again, and he because some of the guards were giving him rather… _interested_ looks. It seemed like Amelie hadn't felt the need to inform her fanged friends of the fact that one of the two young, pretty girls coming to visit her in her secluded home was actually male.

"Oh my god, one of them just _winked_ at me," hissed Myrnin in her ear after they scrambled past another trio of mafia-esque men. "I'm outta here when they start groping, y'know. Amelie or not."

"You know you like it really," whispered Claire back, earning herself a hard but not vampire-hard pinch on the arm. It was, however, enough to sting, and painfully so. "Ow!"

"Let's just get this over with," replied Myrnin with a frown.

"Agreed," answered Claire, and, together, they walked into Amelie's office- the dragon's lair.

Amelie sat delicately and casually (for her anyways) on a red velvet couch-y/love seat thing directly opposite the door at the far end of the wide room, so that she was the first thing they saw on entrance.

"Claire…" she said in greeting, and then, upon realising who the man dressed in the pink silk dress was, her eyes widened slightly. "…and Myrnin. What a surprise."

"Not my choice of clothing. Yours. Remember?" spat Myrnin.

_Yep,_ thought Claire. _He's still pissed alright._

"Why, out of all your enemies…" Myrnin blustered onwards thoughtlessly. "…Why out of everyone you hate did you have to choose _Oliver_ for me to get all up close and cushy with? Oliver! The one person in Morganville who I hate nearly as much as that bloody Witch hunter,** (A/N: that's Pennywell by the way if you don't know) **and you decide to have a little row with him and send _me_ along to settle your feud in a _bright pink dress_…"

Make that pissed of epic proportions.

Claire had seen Myrnin angry before, bordering on Krakatoic, but never with the town founder, cold, icy, and beautiful Amelie, who he looked to as the elder sister that he didn't have, or who had died an incomprehensible length of time ago. Most of the time, Amelie was the only person in the town who Myrnin showed the slightest bit of respect for, as far as Claire could tell. What with him being so constantly scathing of her, and she was a human who he actually _liked_, she dreaded to think how he would act to Oliver tonight...

So, for Myrnin to be raging away like this to none other than Amelie (_Amelie!!!)_ he must have been pretty darn mad.

Claire was just thankful that he hadn't taken it out on her, because she doubted that there would be that much left of her weak little human body if he had.

Amelie let the young-looking man finish his rant without batting an eyelid, and eventually drew him into a premature halt with a regal wave of one snowy-white hand. Myrnin obediently sputtered to a halt, and, in that eerie way all the vampires possessed, Amelie floated to her feet and stood before them.

She was tall, taller than Claire and Myrnin, (although that wasn't really saying much) but far from Shane and Michael's towering heights and widths. Enough to be intimidating, that was for sure, although who needed height when you head those cold, scary eyes?

"Myrnin," Amelie said, just one word, and Myrnin immediately bowed his dark head in a gesture of apology. Amelie ignored it, acting for all the world as if his earlier outburst had not happened. Claire, going with the flow, ignored it also.

Amelie continued with the brief.

"Tonight at six you will enter the Common Grounds. Act natural, and as feminine as possible. You will be dropped off in a normal car by one of my guards. You will be picked up at the same place at midnight. Do you understand?"

Myrnin tilted his chin in acknowledgement, and she carried on.

"You shall stay as close to Oliver as possible without being obvious. Talk to him. Befriend him. Flirt with him if you have to."

Claire managed to stifle a giggle at the word 'flirt' coming out of the ice queen's mouth, just stopping herself with the thought that if she dared laugh at his unfortunate predicament, Myrnin would most likely kill her.

_Giggles… gone._

That tactic always worked- nothing like imminent death and mutilation to snap things into perspective for you.

Myrnin wasn't taking the news so well.

"_Flirt_ with him?" He asked, eyes wide. "Are you _serious?"_ Amelie raised a fine silver perfectly plucked eyebrow, as if to ask- 'when am I not?'

Realising that she meant the truth, whatever smile was left on his face faded swiftly.

"No way," he told her. "No way in Hell, Amelie. I'm wouldn't cushy up to that prick if you paid me!"

The eyebrow twitched higher, amazed by the disobeying of her orders. But Myrnin refused to be cowed, his defiant glare slightly less than burning thanks to the ridiculous dress, but defiant none the less.

And there was nothing Amelie disliked more than rebellion in the ranks.

"Claire," she said smoothly, addressing the young girl beside her, and allowing a twitch of amusement to her lips as she banged to attention fearfully.

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am!"

"Don't be so formal. Would you please step outside for a moment?"

Voiced by anyone else, it would've been a polite request. Spoken in Amelie's frozen tones, it was an undisputable order, to be broken on the pain of death.

Claire exited the room as quickly as was humanely possible, giving a now worried-looking Myrnin a friendly clap on the shoulder as she passed.

"Don't die," she whispered in his ear, and then she was gone, leaving him to his fate.

A few minutes later, a slightly bruised and bloodied Myrnin stepped out the front of the Founder's Hall, looking rather worse for wear. He got into the waiting white car without a fight, looking unnaturally subdued. Upstairs in her office, Amelie smiled. _Good boy._

Even after all these years (and believe her, there had been a _lot _of years to go through) it was amazing that the good old persuasion techniques still worked just as well as always.

A/N: Sorry if this chappies a bit short. I wanted to update today, so I rattled this off pretty damn quickly before I had to go out. Still, I hope it'll keep all you lovely reviewers going until my next instalment in poor Myrnin's tale of woe…

**I just re-read through myself, and was shocked and horrified by all the grammatical errors and plotholes! **

**But as no one's commented on them, I guess they're much more noticeable to me. I'm never satisfied with my own stories!**

**Ah well, keep R&R'in, folks!**


	5. When I got to the party

A.N./ Here ya are, peeps, the next instalment of Myrnin's crazy cross-dressing adventure (yes that is my new personal name for this story =D)!

**Okay, seeing as I've been asked about this, it's time for the party to kick off! It's an extra-long chappie to apologise for not updating in ages… please forgive me, and Thankyou all for your lovely reviews, mwahmwahmwahhh!!!**

**Also, I've been debating if I want to make this into a smutty-story, or just keep it plain ole Bunyip-variety humour, with a few romantic moments and yummily described make-out scenes along the way. Please tell me what you think- yae or nae! **

By the time the limo door opened at the other end, the cuts and bruises were all healed, and Myrnin stepped from the vehicle looking nothing short of perfect- until, that is, he tripped on the dress and very nearly stumbled to his knees, something very embarrassing to happen to a 1000 year + vampire who has been nothing short of the incarnation of grace and elegance for his whole life. (What can I say? He's got a big ego.)

Thankfully, before he could thud into the unforgiving tarmac and ruin the silky garment, a body bent low with superhuman quickness and a muscled arm cupped around his waist with a vice-like grip to hold him firmly aloft. His fingertips were just brushing against the floor, and his dress tangled around his ankles.

And, as he looked up into the face of the man above him, all he could think of to say was:

"Ummmm…" _Yeah. REEEAL eloquent._

Oliver gave him a disdainful look.

"Um? _Um? _Not even a Thankyou? Were you not taught manners?"

Myrnin could only stare. Oliver shook his head slowly and clicked his tongue in annoyance, although his arm remained like an iron bar at the cross-dressing man's back.

"How old are you? Barely a century?" _Ouch. That stung. _"Falling over your own feet like that…"

"Not my feet… it was the dress…" pointed out Myrnin, finally finding his voice for the lame excuse but still pretty much lost for words.

To say that Oliver looked… good… was an understatement. He was dressed all in tight black, and Myrnin couldn't help but notice that without all his usual human nice-guy hippy gear, he looked younger- a lot younger. And pretty damn handsome to, with his grey-streaked hair pulled back into its severe ponytail and his face and body all sharp lines and edges. Although Amelie be damned if he'd ever admit thinking that to anyone…

Oliver let out an exasperated sigh, hooking the other arm around his waist also and grumpily lifted the smaller man upright again.

"There you go," he said, a sort of bored anger still clinging stubbornly to his words, as if he couldn't accept the fact that a vampire could be so clumsy. "Hurry up and get inside, the party's going to start."

_He smells like coffee, _realised Myrnin dazedly, before nodding on automatic pilot and following Oliver into the Common Grounds.

Leaning on the edge of the unnoticed limo still parked by the side of the Common Grounds, the CIA operative look-alike of a guard clicked the pause on his new video phone_._

"You get all that?" he hissed into his earpiece. He could almost imagine Amelie's queenly smile as she sat delicately on the edge of her plush white velvet sofa (A.N.- Yes, it's changed colour, she got bored of the red =D).

"This may be an easier task for Myrnin than we surmised," came his lady's whisper back, and a soft chuckle in reply. "You may return to the town hall now, Gèrard."

Gèrard cast one more fleeting look back to where the pretty young-looking man had vanished into the darkness of the strangely menacing little coffee shop, and obeyed.

If Amelie had faith that this important mission was going to go well, then how could he have any doubts?

The inside of Common Grounds was an amazing splurge of fashion and colour- Myrnin could pick out many different and varied designs from every century, right the way back to his own time period. Ladies in sweeping Tudor dresses hung on the arms of Gentleman in Victorian top-hat-and-tails, people in Renaissance-era waistcoats danced to modern pop music, and a gloomy looking man in a Gregorian dress-shirt was haunting the snacks table.

Everywhere you looked was a huge and varied variety of taste and style, and it took a while for his eyes to get used to it.

Still, at least his dress wouldn't look too out of place.

At one glance, Myrnin would put it at early 1900s, which made him (or his assumed persona at least) one of the youngest vampires at the venue. Well, it would give him a bit more room to make mistakes- no one expected a mere century-old vamp to be perfect.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to relax a little?

Inside the shop, Oliver had wandered- or rather, was dragged- away from Myrnin into the thrumming crowds of the undead, and as much as he craned his neck there was no way that the shorter man could ever catch sight of the other, especially pressed as tightly he was between two vampires who he recognised as a pair of Amelie's nameless underdogs from town. However, unlike the ever-faithful Gèrard, not to mention half a dozen other bleak-faced bodyguards, as well as himself, these two obvious had no such trifling moralities- such as loyalty for instance.

"What d'you reckon Ollie's gonna do?" Asked the one on his right, overly loudly, although he obviously wasn't interested in the question, more in the pretty girl in the pink party frock sitting beside him.

Myrnin thought that _Ollie _was going to rip off the vampire's head if he ever used that nickname in his close vicinity.

He also thought that he might just do the job himself if said vampire didn't stop with the bedroom eyes…

"Dunno," answered the one on the left dreamily, also staring at Myrnin. He was starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

"It's probably gonna be somethin' bad," carried on the one on the right, obviously the more articulate of the two (which wasn't really saying all that much). "I mean, with all the crap Amelie put us n' our town through, what with her daddy coming to stay and all, I'm thinkin' that we need someone else in charge… and the old baggage thrown out the back. You get me? You get me?"

"I get ya," parroted the other, coupled with a drooping evil smirk that a Chihuahua could have easily bettered. "Oh yeah I get ya."

_How can you say _'our' _town? She _made_ this town! It's _her_ town, goddamit, not for traitorous bastards like you! _Yelled Myrnin in his head._ I'll bet you were sucking right up to Bishop and his cronies when they were here, instead of fighting by Amelie's side as you should have! How is it her fault that her father is a manipulative, destruction-obsessed murderer anyway? Everyone has skeletons in the closet! _

But of course, his mission was simply recon, not some daring and quite possibly suicidal dash to spread the word of how good Amelie's reign truly was right to the heart of the enemy camp.

And so, Myrnin kept his mouth tight shut.

The Vampire on the right, noting his silence, decided that now was better than never to move in for the kill.

He shuffled himself along the wall they were sprawled against closer to Myrnin- if that were possible- and stretched up, obviously meaning to loop his arm casually around the man's neck in a replay of the world's worst pick up move.

Sadly, the Vampire on the left had had the same general idea, and their arms clashed a good few inches above Myrnin's head.

"Piss off, she's mine," growled the Vampire on the left, leaning over to press his ugly face closer to his friend. Vampire on the right sneered, his mouth twisting cruelly.

"She ain't a possession you idiot- she don't belong to no one! 'Cept me, of course."

Myrnin managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes, as the vampire on the left uttered the very word he'd been thinking of, if the pronunciation was slightly off.

"Hippo-creete!"

"Ooh, big word!"

"Not as big as yo momma!"

"You wanna say that to my face?"

"Well, I ain't talkin' to your lily arse, douche!"

"I'm gonna make you eat those words!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah!"

Unnoticed in the general blur of testosterone now hazing the air, Myrnin sighed and quietly slipped away. He wasn't going to be getting any useful information out of these two, that was for sure.

Nothing coherent, anyways.

"_Hippo-creete. _Honestly."

**

Myrnin sighed, slipping through the crowds like a pink silk phantom, barely registering the swift glances he was receiving from most males in the room. _Idiots._ He couldn't stand them.

Claire's friends, he could tolerate, if only because she was generally there with them, and her marvellous quick-thinking brain had always been a subject of fascination to his scientific mind.

Amelie… well, what to say… when she didn't want something from him, she was a delightful source of conversation also.

Oliver though, now there was someone he could happily talk to! A sharp, no-nonsense personality you could only admire, a flinty disposition and rational, if slightly pessimistic, outlook to the world.

Not to mention he was a chess master, beaten only by lady Amelie herself.

And he looked good enough to eat in tight black clothing.

And… oh god, Myrnin did _not _just think that.

Denial is a handy thing.

Quickly sweeping all thoughts of the scowling vampire from his vast imagination, Myrnin hurriedly made his way to the snack bar set up at the far end of the long hall, contentedly breathing in the sharp, but somehow sweet scent of coffee as he did so.

It wasn't as overpowering or addictive as the scent of fresh blood, but there was something incredibly homely about it, warm and comforting, and also Oliver-y…

_Gyah, stop it! Stupid mind. _

Myrnin sighed.

_Okay, no more coffee-sniffing. Let's get to the job at hand, and maybe if I dig some stuff up quick you can give Amelie a call and get out of here._

He finally reached the snack table, offering a brief smile to the long-faced vampire he had noticed there first upon arrival. The vampire gave him a doleful glanced, and went back to ignoring him, a glass of something sharp-smelling and untouched in his hand.

_White Wine, _thought Myrnin suprisedly, curious eyes following the soft slap of the pale liquid against the side of the crystal as the gloomy vampire unconsciously tilted his bony fingers. _And here I was hoping this would be a bloodfeast…_

"There is blood if you would prefer," said a smooth, low voice at his shoulder. Myrnin flinched, nearly squeaking in shock but catching himself furiously just in time.

Oliver.

_Oliver. _

And he'd managed to sneak up on him twice so far tonight without him noticing… what on earth was happening to his senses? He was normally so awake, so aware…

But then again, Oliver had always been the silent and deadly type (A.N.- no I'm not talking about farts ;P) more suited to assassination than shootouts. Still, it hurt that he, the oldest vampire here by quite a way as far as he could surmise, was being creeped up on like a child of fifty years or so!

"You again," he muttered, turning away. "What do you want?"

Even if he couldn't see his face, he could clearly imagine the enraged look quickly spreading across Oliver's mobile face, than being suppressed just as efficiently. The man donned and shook off his emotions like a mask.

"I was merely asking a simple question," he answered, sounding gentle and apologetic, although his voice was never that simple. These tones held taints of rage to them, that and hunger. "Although if my lady isn't thirsty…"

He let the question hang unspoken between them, and for the first time in ages, Myrnin realised how parched he actually was. When had been the last time he'd drunk blood?

He couldn't remember making his lonely way into the prison cells in at least a month, maybe more. There had always been something on, some new project to excite Claire with, some new and miraculous discovery already old to Claire's fleeting generation to play with. And not enough time, never enough time, not even to feed…

Amelie had always warned him not to put science before everything, and he'd always laughed it off with a shrug. Of _course _he put science before everything! It was what he did.

But putting it before _blood?_

That was surprising, even for him.

Oliver had noted his unresponsiveness, and shrugged, beginning to move away.

"If you're sure…"

Myrnin blinked back to reality, and before realising what he was doing, held out a hand to catch the other vampire's sleeve.

"Wait!"

Oliver turned back, his stare unreadable, crossing his arms over his chest. Myrnin couldn't help but note the large bulge of biceps flexing beneath his tight jacket, and nor could he stop the light blush that spread across his cheeks.

"You really need to learn how to send better signals," Oliver told him, and the blush immediately intensified, as the taller man stepped closer in a flurry of untraceable vampire speed, leaving only a few centimetres of sweet air between them.

Myrnin, to his surprise, took his own step forwards, closing the tiny distance left by Oliver equally fast, resting a thin hand on the larger man's arm and looking up into his face. Oliver smirked, taking this as a signal to continue, and his hands snaked out, one to rest daringly on the slight curve of the slender vampire's hip, whilst the other was higher, tilting Myrnin's pale face up to his own…

And Myrnin let him.

Oliver stopped, their lips inches apart and his eyebrows creasing for a moment in confusion, obviously realising this pretty girl's resemblance to someone who he couldn't stand at the best of times, but then dismissed it as coincidence, and began to move closer again.

But the brief pause had given Myrnin a second to breathe, and panic suddenly flared up in his eyes.

No! What was he doing! He didn't want to flirt, so why was he? Why was he letting this man who had tried to steal his precious book of secrets that had awakened this town and all those within it, who had very nearly betrayed them and handed the soul of their saviour directly into the hands of the enemy, whatever side he claimed he had been playing for afterwards, to hold him so gently?

To nearly kiss him?

Myrnin quickly broke free from Oliver's light touch, cursing the way his fingers seemed to linger wantingly on the man's arm, and moved to stand at a much more respectable distance away. Of, say, half a mile or two.

Sadly, the furthest he could get was about two feet, thanks to the crush of vampires and the snacks table pressed coldly into his back, but it would have to do.

Anything to escape those arms, and the way they had almost- very almost- rekindled an old flame left burnt out and sad by Ada's nearly-death at his hands.

"I'll take the blood," he managed to gasp. "Please."

Oliver blinked for a second, and for a moment Myrnin could have sworn something else flickered past that deep gaze, before the usual bored uncaring mask was reaffixed once more.

Could it be… disappointment? (A.N. – cheesy I know. But cheese is good stuff, it makes your bones grow big and strong…)

But then the usual Oliver flooded back into place and his lips that had been so nearly brushing his own twisted downwards in a sneer.

"I will ask someone to prepare an appropriate beverage for you, my lady," he said, dropping into a sarcastic bow. "And hope that they make a better waiter than I."

Myrnin wasn't quite sure what to make of that last comment- if he wasn't going to snog Oliver than he'd be damned if he'd snog some boring baby vampire a thousand years his junior who could barely recite the periodic table back to front and right to left.

Kids these days.

Oliver's disrespectful smirk plastered his face one more time, and his eyes glowed like chinks of ice as he looked back at the girl he'd just left by the snack stand.

And then he left.

Just left.

No point crying over spilt milk, anyway.

Myrnin wordlessly turned away, trying to hide the strange sad feeling welling up in his gut. The dismal vampire beside him easily read his miserable expression though, and held out the crystal flute with an eerily pale hand.

"Wine?" He asked.

Myrnin nodded and reached out.

Even if Oliver really did send someone with blood- and it wouldn't be likely, Oliver would probably ignore his order just to spite him- he had a feeling he was going to need a lot more liquor inside him before the night was done.


	6. They gave me a forty

**A.N./ Okeedokies, thanks for all your reviews, peeps!**

**For the record, I have decided to keep the yaoi toned down to snoggalishessness, and sorry to any of you who don't like boy on boy action, but that's what it's gonna be.**

**But hey, it's my story. I get to do what I want, right?**

**So let's get on with it.**

**Nothingnessalchemist****: I'm sorry I didn't get this up sooner. As usual, my Muse picked the worst possible time to go on holiday, and then it got stuck there for a few days when Iceland exploded and then… well, it just got worse from there, (Doesn't it always?) what with exam revision and all of that. Anyways, hope you enjoy the chappie, and I'm glad that someone loves my story as much as you do! Thankyou very much.**

**And yes, the only reason that I **_**really**_** wrote this was because I wanted to write a drunk-Myrnin scene… Mwahahah!**

Six very full glasses later, and there was a very pleasant buzz floating around inside Myrnin's head the likes of which he hadn't had in _centuries_. And after a couple more, he was finding it much, _much_ easier to forget all about moody little Oliver, and just focus on kicking back and enjoying the party. The stares he gained were no longer so claustrophobic and privately embarrassing, but instead strangely flattering, and before he knew it, he was smiling and chatting and charming and socialising in a way that would have made any real girl envious.

_Wow, _he thought to himself as he sat at a table at the edge of the hall with some other vampires, one of whom had an arm slung casually over his shoulders. He didn't know their names and didn't really care to – they weren't bound to Amelie after all – but they were all tall, (well, taller than him at least) nicely-muscled, and wearing far too much fake tan to look the slightest bit natural for a pale-skinned creature of the night. _I never thought that this whole… party thing… would be so fun!_

And surprisingly, it was.

"Hey, gorgeous," said one, leaning across the table and stroking his long pale fingers down his arm. "I'm Raphael… What's _your_ name?"

"Marina," said Myrnin, forgetting the other's name immediately, as soon as it had left the vampire's lips. "Mayr-eeeee-naa! It sounds kinda funny, doesn't it, Rambo?"

"Raphael," muttered the vampire.

The vamp with his arm around Myrnin tightened the appendage suddenly, and frowned, lips twisting slowly into a retarded (by Myrnin's standards) form of comprehension.

"Hang on a sec… you told me your name was Melanie!"

"She said Mary to me," volunteered another from the other side of the table.

"Melissa," added another.

"Maryse…"

Myrnin laughed, throwing back his head and liking how the wine quelled his nervousness as soon as it had began to rise. He was strong. He was powerful. He could do whatever he pleased, and no one could stop him!

He hadn't felt like this in ages, not since… well, not since he'd been insane, actually, and the other side, his dark, deadly side, had taken over. Myrnin chose not to dwell on those ugly, broken memories for too long. Let the past stay in the past.

"I guess I'm too drunk to give a shdam… I mean a damn. Damn damn damnity damn damn… s'a hard word, that one…"

The other vamps looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

"Well, I guess if she's drunk, she won't remember our faces tomorrow morning," pointed out one.

"And she probably won't put up too much of a fuss when I get her down on a bed…" mused the one holding him.

"All for the best then," said Raphael, still not sure whether to be insulted that Myrnin had forgotten his name or happy that he had called him 'Rambo' instead.

"I agree, Raccoon," giggled Myrnin, waving a tipsy finger in the air. Raphael frowned, especially when his four bloodsucking friends snorted their drinks back into their glasses at the nickname.

Insulted, definitely insulted. That was the right way to go.

Raphael stood slowly, eyes shadowed deeply in the dusky atmosphere of the corner they were occupying, cracking his knuckles one by one carefully into the palm of one large hand.

"How many times do I have to say it, bitch?" he asked, and his voice was low and menacing, a promise of pain.

The guy holding the slighter vampire pushed him off his lap with an annoyed snort and roll of the eyes.

"Geez… okay, just don't touch her face, okay? I like the ones with pretty faces."

Myrnin frowned, stumbling slightly and doing a fair impression of Jack Sparrow after a few rum bottles too many (A.N.// Kyaaah! Johnny Depp! *fangirl squeal*), windmilling his arms in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

It didn't work, and he ended up sitting rather ungracefully down on the floor, room spinning unnaturally around him as he tried to make his eyes focus on the larger vamp whose posture was obviously threatening, even to Myrnin in his drunken state.

"The name is Raphael!"

The Vampire took another step forwards and another. Myrnin just sat there, looking up at him and dazedly blinking at the colourful fairies that were currently dancing merrily around his head.

Raphael swung his large fist back, vampire eyes instantly calculating distance, force and trajectory needed, but paused at the top of his swing to get in one more gloat before he pounded the pretty little girl who had the guts to call him a raccoon in front of his own comrades into the floor.

"Raccoon… What are ya, lass, stupid or something?"

Myrnin, shocked out of his reverie, felt a scowl creep onto his face as the big vampire's words grated into his ears.

Stupid…

Stupid?

STUPID????

Just who the _Hell _did this damned brat think he was talking to, anyway?

Unseen by both the man before him and the puzzled spectators gathering around, his long pale fingers curled into a rock-hard and twice as deadly fist.

"Think just because you're a vamp you can't get mucked up a bit by us big bloodsuckers with more experience than you? Eh?" Raphael sneered, his thick lips twitching upwards in a brutish expression of satisfaction, satisfaction that the girl who had snubbed him was now completely at his mercy.

Myrnin snorted- just a little scoff at the larger vampire's stupidity, so soft that none but those closest to him could hear it even with their advanced vampire hearing.

But it was enough.

Raphael's eyes, once muddy red, now glowed brightly into a dangerous crimson.

"Don't laugh at me!" He howled, and punched out.

It really wasn't fair, one large vampire threatening a harmless teenage girl, whose face was hidden behind long curls of black hair and whose shoulders were shaking violently, probably in outright terror of the man before her, because the only other thing it could be was laughter, and that in face of such danger was just… preposterous.

Obviously.

Poor Raphael didn't have a chance.

Quick as a (very clichéd) flash, Myrnin twisted away from the punch as if it was at snail speed, eyes flicking coldly to Raphael's face for the briefest of seconds before snapping his hand down on the larger man's thick wrist in an iron grip.

Nobody called him stupid.

_NOBODY._

His mind could run _circles_ around these buffoons, any day! Sure, he was a little drunk right now, although it pained him to actually admit it, but even so he could still deal out an ass-whooping of the likes these younglings had never seen before…

Raphael's mind took a minute to register that his punch had not only been avoided with a snakelike graceful ease by the fragile-looking girl in front of him, Marina or whatever she called herself, but also …_countered?_

Because, try as he might, he couldn't break his arm away from the girl's thin fingers, clasped like one of the Bracelets around his wrist.

"H…Hey," he said, confusion and shock curling his eyebrows skywards. "What are you…"

He never finished his sentence.

Myrnin's eyes sparked a sudden similar unholy red, a manic grin reminiscent of his old insanity days splitting his face in terrifying two before his pale fingers clenched harder, and… _twisted…_ snapping the Vampire's arm like it was made of straw.

A splintered fragment of white bone, stained with the too-dark, too-viscous fluid the Vampires called blood, jutted awkwardly from the unnaturally crooked third joint Myrnin had just created in Raphael's forearm.

Raphael, eyes wide in a mixture of pain and terror, fell backwards away from the insanely strong madwoman he had just had the misfortune of attacking, and did the only thing that any self-respecting epitome of Vampiric masculinity could do in the situation-

He screamed.

_Well, 'shrieked like a kicked Banshee's puppy dog' would be a more appropriate phrase for it,_ mused Myrnin, covering his ears delicately with a wince. Some people… so inconsiderate. Victims should always think about other people's hearing before they started proclaiming their terror in such a barbarian fashion.

Raphael's friends looked on, stumped for a second, before turning to each other, and then down to himself, eyes narrowed.

"That bitch…" said the one who had been holding him on his lap previously. "… fuckin' slaughtered Raphael!"

Myrnin let out a long-wrought sigh. In all the confusion, it seemed that the delightful affects caused by all the wine he had consumed earlier were coming to a close.

Damn it.

And all because of these goons just couldn't leave him alone…

"I hardly _slaughtered_ him," he felt prone to point out. "He's still… well, I suppose 'breathing' is hardly the word to use… _in this world, _now that's a far better colloquium!"

The vampires halted for a second, and looked at each other confusedly.

"What's a colloquium?" pondered one, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement.

Myrnin sighed, rolled his eyes, shook the last remains of dizziness from his head, and punched him in the face hard enough to snap his neck backwards with a sickening crunch.

_Two down._

But still three to go, and these weren't all just going to be waiting around for the fight to come to them like the previous ones…

Suddenly, an arm as thick as a tree trunk and twice as muscled wrapped itself around Myrnin's throat, cutting off his air supply (if he had ever felt the need to breathe, that is) and yanking him backwards, away from the three angry looking vamps and the two keeled-over unconscious ones.

"That's enough of _that_, girlie," spoke a deep and unrecognised voice in his ear. Myrnin twisted his neck as much as he could with the appendage still wrapped like a snake around it, and caught a glimpse of an ugly, flat bulldog face made out of smooth vamp-white skin the colour and temperature of marble. The Bouncer. Great.

He'd just been pulled away from a fight at the bar and was now about to get kicked out by the vampire brontosaurus Oliver had hired as a bodyguard.

Claire was going to have a fit, and Myrnin didn't want to think what Amelie would do if he was… forcibly evicted without gathering any useful information.

He was just preparing to break free, the muscles in one leg bunching up and preparing to snap out behind at what he guessed to be crotch-height on the bigger vamp (A.N.// 'cause they might be the undead but I'll bet you _that_ still hurts like hell!) when, surprisingly, the vampire laughed and swung him through the air to dump him unceremoniously towards Oliver, who had been standing to one side with a dark sneer written all across his tight, sarcastic face.

"Careful with this one, sir," he warned, casting the two downed vamps a cursory glance. "A right wildcat she is, she downed Raphael and Jimmy, they're both good strong fighters with lot's of experience."

"Hmmm…" Oliver caught Myrnin by the scruff of black curls at the back of his neck and looked down at him coldly. "Yes, she is quite the unpredictable, isn't she?" The Bouncer, content that the matter was safe in his master's hands, quickly grabbed hold of the three remaining vampire goons and 'escorted' them out, with quite a good deal of whispered threats and painful nervepoint jabs along the way.

Oliver watched them go silently for a few long moments, hand still fisted rather painfully in Myrnin's hair. The stillness dragged out around them in a bubble, as other vamps turned away one by one and got back to their revelry in an instant, and Myrnin was just beginning to think Oliver had forgotten about him when Oliver suddenly moved, yanking the dark locks in a hard circular motion, forcing Myrnin's body to follow until they were facing each other again.

Then he removed his pale thin hand from behind his back and thrust it towards him with vampire speed. Myrnin, unable to react, closed his eyes and flinched away from the blow…

…and opened them to a deliciously familiar fragrance assaulting his delicate nostrils. Blood. Blood!

Oliver was holding out a crystalline cup towards him, glittering beneath the dancing lights with all the colours of the rainbow, and, best of all, filled to the brim with sweet, silky red liquid. He released his fingers slowly from the scientist's hair, and a mocking smile twisted his lips skywards in response to Myrnin's shock.

"Your blood, my lady. Freshly drained, as I'm sure you'll prefer." Myrnin wondered how he'd managed that one- there were no humans at the party, that was a certainity. Not even a single, scrumptious heartbeat sounded in the whole packed hall. Mind you, it wouldn't be beyond Oliver to be keeping a few donors locked up in a secret cupboard in the back of the parlour somewhere.

Didn't Claire have one of them to? Although she probably didn't use it to hide donors, more likely her boyfriend had commandeered it for his collection of porn mags or something.

Claire had been right, that _had _been a very… interesting conversation. (A.N.// for those who don't know, it's a reference to where Myrnin discovers the Internet in one of the books, I forget which one (I think the seventh?) and Claire wonders what she'll tell him when he finds the porn.)

"Th… Thankyou," muttered Myrnin, reaching out a slender, and eager (no matter how much he tried to hide it) hand for the glass.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you another waiter. It seems that I was called away from my search to deal with a young woman vicious assaulting various innocent partygoers. A matter that required my immediate attention, I'm sure you understand."

Well, there wasn't that much you could say to that, was there?

Myrnin scowled and turned his back, head still smarting from the tight grip on his hair. He easily drained the glass in a few gulps, the warm feeling of good, rhesus-negative nourishment rushing welcomely through his wanting veins, and refused to let the snub bite him.

Typical Oliver, do something considerate and then ruin it with his bad mouth.

Anyway, _innocent _was hardly a word to describe those idiots, even if he couldn't exactly remember what they had been talking about, he had been pretty certain it had involved him and a bed, which was a good enough reason to stay well away.

As he began to walk into the thronging crowd once again, he heard a brief exhalation of air from Oliver, and a hand closed tightly around one forearm.

Great. Now the bastard wouldn't let him even enjoy the party.

"What?" he growled, twisting around again, ready to bite Oliver if he didn't let go of him right now, _this instant._ As if sensing this, Oliver relinquished his hold, but remained standing directly in front of him, daring him to walk away from him again.

"_What?"_

Oliver snorted.

"Your manners really are atrocious."

Myrnin could have screamed.

"Did you grab me just to insult me, or are you actually going to break the ice and go for some civil conversation?"

An eyebrow on the other twitched slightly, and Myrnin felt a wave of satisfaction flow through him, nearly as hot as the blood rush had been.

Oh, how he loved to antagonise Oliver.

"Actually, I was just reminding you to return your glass to the kitchen when you have finished with it…" Myrnin twirled the fragile stem like a baton between his iron-strong fingers smugly "…and to find a good seat. The reason why you were all invited here tonight will soon become clear…"

Those deadly grey eyes narrowed for a sharp second.

"… _Marina."_

The glass suddenly slipped from between his phalanges (A.N.// I have always wanted to use that word in a story! Hey, that's GCSE Biology for ya!) And fell towards the floor. Myrnin watched it topple in slow motion, eyes wide as he waited for the smash of shattering.

No.

It couldn't be…

Had Oliver recognised him?

The smash never came, and Oliver reached down neatly faster than the Matrix (A.N.// Yaaay Keanu Reaves! *Fangirl Squeal*) and plucked the tumbling crystal from midair with a light pinch of finger and thumb, before handing it back to the still stunned Myrnin, something cold and calculating shining in his eyes, behind that deadly smile.

"I'll see you later, Marina," he promised, dropping an eyelid in a wink. To anyone watching, it was sweet, almost flirtatious, but Myrnin could only see the terrible danger in that simple gesture.

_Crap, he knows, he knows… what will he do… and what on earth should I do?_

But for once, his marvellous mind seemed to have deserted him, and he could only watch as, for the second time tonight, Oliver waded through the crowds away from him, secrets hidden in the dark abyss of his eyes.

**A.N.// Okay, that's the end! Yes, I know I left it on a totally evil cliff-hanger, but I'm a sadistic little bitch… so deal with it! =)**

**Anyway, I've just read the eighth book, Kiss of Death, and the preview for the next one, Ghost Town! Kyaaah! (Yeah, I say Kyaah a lot!) It's brilliant!**

**You know the drill by now- read and review! New reviewers are always welcome, and the more reviews I get, the more motivation it is for me to kick my muse up the backside and get up a new chapter!**

**Although on a sadder note, the new chapter might be delayed- I've got a good few weeks of solid exams that need to be revised for, so that's gonna take priority, sorry. But don't you worry, Bunyipbabe will be uploading again, as soon as possible!**


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